Few people have better described the season this swap celebrates than the American poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, with his “flowers blooming about our feet, and tender grass, so fresh, so sweet”. His Springtime Prayer is pure gratitude, and, greeted with the beauty of blooming fields and gardens after a tough winter that’s exactly what fills your mind.
Alain Ducasse, in his “My Last Supper” interview, also spoke in exalted terms of the splendour of springtime, “when nature is at its most generous”. “The height of luxury is a flowering petit pois,” he said – a thing so ephemeral it only lives a few hours. Of course, these aren’t so plentiful in urban London, hence the difficulty I had in sourcing certain ingredients. But, no matter. Spring cooking is all about finding ways to best enhance and savour this nascent, fleeting beauty that sprouts so suddenly in places dormant.
The winning recipe: English country garden cocktail
With one slender fluteful, Cori Pim-Keirle, AKA ColonialCravings awakened me to the beauty of the cocktail. Peychard’s bitters – which is used here primarily for the pale rose hue that it lent the drink – might be tricky to find, but even without it, this was beautiful. Elderflower and rose make the always-pleasant gin, while the honey and lemon combo sing like a garden in full bloom. As substitutes, try Angostura bitters for other botanical notes with a peachy tint, while rhubarb simple syrup brings extra fruity notes and that ever‑pleasing pink.
Makes 2
70ml gin
Juice of 1 lemon
2 tsp rosewater
2 tsp elderflower cordial
2 tbsp honey simple syrup (below)
8 dashes of Peychaud’s bitters or 4 dashes of Angostura bitters
For the honey syrup
4 tbsp honey
4 tbsp water
1 First, make the honey syrup: simply combine the honey and water in a saucepan and simmer for 1-2 minutes over a medium heat. Set aside to cool completely before using.
2 To make the cocktail, combine everything in a cocktail shaker along with lots of ice, then shake it all together for 1 minute. Strain into pretty glasses and garnish with a lemon twist, if you’d like.
Fresh herb salad
If Pim-Keirle’s offering was spring in a glass, Fadime Tiskaya’s is the plated equivalent, and choosing between them felt like being made to pick a favourite among children: I loved them both.
Serves 4-6
For the salad
2 blood oranges
1 fennel bulb and leaves, trimmed and finely sliced
20g each of parsley, coriander, mint leaves, and watercress
Shavings of manchego or parmesan cheese, to garnish
A handful of pistachio kernels, to garnish
Sourdough bread, to serve
For the dressing
4 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp fresh or dried thyme leaves
The reserved juice from the blood oranges
3 tbsp lemon juice
4 spring onions, finely sliced
Salt and black pepper
1 First, make the dressing. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the olive oil and the thyme leaves, then leave the mixture to infuse for about 20 minutes.
2 Peel and cut the oranges into segments, and place in a large salad bowl, reserving the extra juice from slicing to add to the dressing.
3 Add the lemon juice and spring onions into the thyme and olive oil infusion, season with some salt and pepper, then whisk until the dressing thickens slightly.
4 Add the fennel slices and all of the fresh herbs to the salad bowl containing the orange segments, mix them all together, then pour the dressing over the top. Garnish with shavings of manchego or parmesan cheese and sprinkle with the pistachio kernels to finish. Serve alongside freshly sliced sourdough.
Frankfurter green sauce
Christie Dietz’s German condiment grüne soße is traditionally made with the first crop of seven specific spring herbs: chervil, chives, parsley, cress, sorrel, borage and burnet. As it happens, I could only find the first four items on this beautifully sonorous list locally, and, knowing the tartness that the sorrel would have brought to the party, I feel the sauce, as I tasted it, was somewhat mild. It was, nevertheless, a lovely accompaniment to some grilled fish, and the leftover sauce, mixed with some beaten eggs, made for a wonderfully herbaceous quiche filling.
Makes a large bowlful
3 medium eggs, hard boiled and cooled
2-3 tbsp white wine vinegar (to taste)
1 tbsp mustard
Salt and black pepper
Sugar (to taste)
6 tbsp sunflower or other flavourless oil
250g creme fraiche
2 banana shallots, finely chopped
1 large bunch fresh mixed herbs (see above), washed and chopped
1 Peel the eggs and separate the yolks from the whites. Press the yolks through a sieve into a large bowl and mix with the vinegar, mustard, salt, pepper, sugar and sunflower oil.
2 Chop the egg whites finely, add them to the egg yolk mixture and then fold in the creme fraiche and shallots.
3 Stir the mixed herbs into the sauce and have a quick taste: if the flavour is too sharp, add a little more sugar; if it’s not sharp enough, a splash more vinegar. If you would prefer a silky-smooth green sauce, give the mixture a quick whizz in the blender. Leave the sauce to stand for 1 hour to allow the flavours to develop, then serve at room temperature.
Grilled asparagus and new potatoes with wild garlic pesto
Grilling the asparagus brings lovely charred notes to the green in Louise-Claire Cayzer’s veg-centric supper.
Serves 4
1 bunch asparagus
500g new potatoes
For the pesto
2 big handfuls wild garlic, stems and flowers included
75g pine nuts
2 tbsp nutritional yeast
Flaky sea salt
2-3 tbsp olive oil
1 First, put the potatoes on to boil and heat up your grill or a griddle pan.
2 Put all the ingredients for the pesto into a food processor and blitz until combined. Taste for flavour and add more salt, if needed.
3 Grill the asparagus until slightly charred.
4 Drain the potatoes once they are tender, then carefully toss them and the asparagus in enough pesto to give everything a luscious coating.
5 Serve immediately, though this is equally nice at room temperature. Any leftover pesto can be covered in a thin film of olive oil and kept in the fridge for up to a week. Use as you would any other pesto.
Rape blossoms with miso mustard dressing
I couldn’t find rape blossoms, but I loved how well Anna Thompson’s dressing went with whichever spring greens – as she suggested – I could get my hands on: a sweet, salty, generous flavour that complements flavourful leaves perfectly.
Serves 4
1 bunch rape blossoms or any spring greens you prefer
4 tbsp sweet white miso
1 tsp honey
1 tsp karashi or yellow hot mustard
1 tsp sake (optional)
1 Blanch the rape blossoms or spring greens in slightly salted water for 2-3 minutes (I like to reserve some of the yellow flowers as a garnish). Rinse under cold water and pat dry. Cut into bite-sized pieces.
2 Mix the miso, honey, sake and karashi or mustard together – thin with a little water, if necessary.
3 Toss the blossoms in the dressing to serve.
Rhubarb and ginger pudding
Although forced rhubarb has been around since January, the field-grown kind has also just come into season, making this a seasonal treat. Marrying it, as Rhian Williams does, with ginger makes for something comforting and warming, possibly better suited to colder days. Given that England is being pummelled by a springtime storm of epic proportions as I type, that feels about right.
Serves 6
300g fresh rhubarb, cut into 3cm pieces
150g brown sugar
125ml oil (vegetable or coconut)
½ tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp ground ginger, to taste
250g almond powder
2 tsp baking powder
A few pieces of crystallised ginger, cut into small pieces
1 In a saucepan on a low heat, cook the rhubarb with 50g of the sugar for about 5 minutes, just to soften it slightly.
2 Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Mix together the oil, vanilla extract, ginger, almond powder, baking powder and the rest of the brown sugar in a bowl.
3 Transfer the mixture into your greased baking dish of choice. Arrange the rhubarb on top and scatter with the crystallised ginger pieces.
4 Bake for around 30-40 minutes, or until rhubarb is soft and the rest of the pudding has cooked through – don’t worry if it’s a bit sticky though; this is what makes it so nice!
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